


My Oh My

by TuppingLiberty



Series: As the Universe Wills It - Force Husbands [6]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, Fluff, Look I like baseball okay, M/M, Safeco Field, Seattle, The Mariners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Seattle Modern AU - Chirrut is *obsessed* with Mariners baseball, and always has been.  Some vignettes surrounding Chirrut's obsession, and Baze's begrudging acceptance of it.Day 2 of Spiritassassin week: Alternate Universe/Timeline





	My Oh My

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge Mariners fan. I set this au in Seattle. OF COURSE baseball was going to end up being a part of this series. ;)
> 
> CW: There's a very, very brief mention of the Pulse massacre (in relation to a pride event at Safeco Field)

**2017**

**Lăo gong:** Don’t be late

 **Lăo gong:** If you’re late I’m leaving without you and not letting you cut in with me in line. That’s rude.

 **Lăo gong:** And I won’t let you even LOOK at my bobble head

 **Lăo gong:** And I’m NOT talking about the bobble head I’m going to get at the game tonight.

Baze snorted as he read over the last few texts.

 **Baze:** I won’t be late

 **Baze:** Stop pestering me.

 _There, that ought to set Chirrut up for later,_ Baze thought with a laugh.

 ---------------

**2000**

One of the first things Baze learned about Chirrut, back when they were manning his pottery booth together that first summer, was that Chirrut was a rabid Mariners fan.

“Have you been to the new field? Just opened last year. It’s beautiful.”

Baze no longer questioned those types of remarks. “I haven’t. Um. I’m not- not a huge fan of baseball?”

Chirrut shocked gasp almost knocked him over in his chair. Then he broke the act and grinned. “Shitting with you. I know it’s an acquired taste. I've been into it pretty much since opening day, 1977, Dave Niehaus's voice in my ear, making the field come  _alive_ , man."

Baze caught himself staring at Chirrut's lovely, passionate face, wondering if he had anything _he_ was that passionate about.

"Still, I haven’t been to Safeco yet. I don't get to a game every year. I liked the Kingdome just fine but it’s nothing like open-air baseball.”

“We should go,” Baze found himself offering, because being in the other man’s company was something he was desiring more and more. Baze could- could relax around Chirrut, really be himself.

Chirrut’s face brightened in the morning sun. “We should! There’s a game tonight, want to go?”

 

The first mistake Baze made was wearing red to the baseball game, against the Boston Red Sox. It wasn’t his smoothest move, although at least Chirrut couldn’t see.

His second mistake was _taking Chirrut to a baseball game._

Baseball Chirrut had two modes:

Mode 1: Sitting quietly, listening to the radio broadcast in one ear, peering out at the baseball field as if he could A) see it and B) manipulate the ball or the players or something through telekinesis.

Mode 2: On his feet, yelling at something or someone, with such choice phrases as:

“Come _onnnnn_ , don’t walk him, _bái chī!”_

“Do something! You haven’t got a hit all day!”

“Oh my God, I’m _blind_ and even I could see that was a strike!”

They were seated in the nosebleed section because they’d gotten last minute tickets. Baze laughed aloud at Chirrut’s last yell, at the glances they got from the other nose-bleeders, and elbowed Chirrut in the side. “Whatever happened to ‘all is as the universe wills it?’”

“That’s the universe, this is _baseball.”_

“Oh, yes, I see,” Baze muttered sarcastically, laughing again when Chirrut shot him a glare. _He’s so cute- wait, what?_

Their first kiss was at a Starbucks, and their first date the sushi place, but Baze would never forget the first time he actually started having feelings for someone - specifically Chirrut. On the 300 level of Safeco Field, with the Mariners down by four in the bottom of the ninth and Chirrut on his feet, baseball cap backwards and inside out in rally cap mode, yelling his lungs out.

Not that Baze acted on those feelings. He shoved them aside as an aberration and continued to watch the game - or watch Chirrut watch the game, really. Chirrut was _far_ more entertaining than baseball.

\------------

**2001**

Baze didn’t mind being called a fair weather fan. The next year, 2001, he actually kind of liked watching it with Chirrut, because the Mariners weren’t actually losing all the time.

Chirrut was euphoric. “I’ve been listening to Dave Niehaus call baseball since I was in grade school, Baze." Baze had lost count of the times Chirrut had given him that particular fact. "This- this is our _year.”_

That’s when the obsession with Ichiro Suzuki had started, too.

Chirrut prodded Baze in the side as he worked on his laptop - security consulting stuff - and half listened to the baseball game, which was playing on Chirrut’s radio _and_ on the TV. Mostly Chirrut had it on the TV so Baze could watch replays and tell him his decidedly inexpert opinion on if someone was safe. And- and even if Baze still didn't  _really_ like baseball, it was fun to watch the Mariners win, and it was nice being able to share something with Chirrut. He still wasn't super into the art shows Chirrut dragged him to.

Chirrut prodded Baze again.

“What?”

“Is he cute?”

Baze sighed, looking at the TV screen at the man unvelcroing and revelcroing his batting gloves before he took his stance. “Um.” He sighed again. “Why do you ask me these things?”

“C’mon, I know you know what attractive is.”

“Sure, but. Augh, Chirrut, _why?”_

Chirrut just grinned at him, and Baze rolled his eyes.

“Okay, um. Yeah, he’s cute. Because he’s more like you than he is like me.”

Chirrut wrinkled his nose. “Eh, never mind."

Baze snorted. God, at least Chirrut had a type. As long as he kept the man away from, uh,  _bears,_ Chirrut had said he was called, then hopefully Chirrut would stay with him. 

"Doesn’t matter if he’s cute, anyway, as long as he keeps running the bases like that. And that _arm._ Did you _see_ The Throw?”

And Chirrut was off on another exultant speech about Ichiro’s stats, and Baze was caught again by the realization that Chirrut was- was _so cute._

Except this year, he knew what to do about it.

He set his laptop aside and leaned into Chirrut, shutting down some sentence about stolen bases with a deep kiss.

When they broke it off, panting, Chirrut grinned at him. “And did you see his home run stats? He’s going to earn rookie-”

Baze cut him off again, pulling him into his lap and bringing their mouths together.  

“You-” Chirrut gasped for air, then laughed. “You realize what you’re doing here, right? You keep rewarding me for talking baseball and I’m just going to keep doing it.”

“Mmhmm, yes, talk baseball to me, baby,” Baze said in an attempt to sound sexy, then burst out laughing.

Chirrut’s giggles were muffled against his throat. When they’d sobered, Chirrut pushed slightly off him, then gave him a considering look. “Still, you’re way more comfortable than a stadium seat.”

“Funny you should mention that.” Baze brought Chirrut in for another kiss. “Because I bought tickets for Tuesday’s game. But I can stand outside the stadium and sell them to someone if you’d rather just sit on me.”

Chirrut swatted his chest lightly. “ _Bái chī!_ You think you’re so funny.”

“I am. I’m really, really funny. Just, no one gets it, like, ever.”

Chirrut snorted into their kiss. “I get it. I get you.” Baze melted a little under Chirrut as Chirrut placed a hand over his heart and kissed his cheek. “And because I get you, I _know_ you don’t like baseball, so why are you offering to take me?”

Baze shrugged. “We’re winning, so that’s fun. And it’s good entertainment.” _You’re_ good entertainment. “You like going, and you don’t like going alone. Now you don’t have to.”

Chirrut cupped Baze’s cheeks and kissed him thoroughly. “You softy.”

They made out quietly for awhile, until their lips were swollen with it and their breath coming in pants. Finally, with a groan, Chirrut pushed himself off Baze’s lap and back onto the couch seat. “If we keep this up, I’m going to associate boners with Dave, and that’s- that’s just wrong.”

Baze chuckled and shook his head, pulling his laptop back over.

\-------------

**2016**

As Baze’s businesses took off and Chirrut’s job got more secure, they began to average a few games a month, even when the Mariners were losing. Chirrut was _always_ entertaining, even if the baseball wasn’t, Baze figured. And sometimes the Mariners - not the team, but the stadium - did stuff to make it entertaining, like the Star Wars nights.

He held Chirrut when Dave Niehaus was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2008, and again when he died in 2010, and _again,_ after Chirrut got his first picture with the Dave Niehaus statue.

He even rented out one of the suites - with the help of some of Chirrut’s friends - for his birthday one year.

He also eventually - somewhere around year five, probably, got over the fear that Chirrut was going to find someone else. For Baze, Chirrut had always been the one, but Chirrut wasn't Demi, which meant- which meant Baze was always left wondering exactly _why_ Chirrut had chosen him, of all the men in Seattle. Chirrut had been with him faithfully since December of 2000, and Baze finally got over the hangup of his own minuscule self-worth. It helped that Chirrut propped him up every chance he got.

In 2016, the Mariners had their first Pride Night. Chirrut was brimming with pride in his team, that they were being accepting, that they were coming out to show love was love, especially after the Pulse massacre.

Like he always did for Pride, Chirrut insisted they wear matching shirts. This time, they were baseball shirts - for the Mariners, of course - and on the back, where the player names and numbers would normally be, instead standing side by side they read “Together Since 2000.”

“Because fuck the stereotype that we’re promiscuous,” Chirrut said when Baze protested that it was too cheesy, and Baze shut up.

“Point.” He slipped his hand around Chirrut’s waist as they waited in line. He knew people behind him were snapping pictures of their shirts, but after years of this, he’d resigned himself to it. And since he was pretty damn proud to be celebrating sixteen years with his husband, he just bucked up and let it slide off him.

It was great to see LGBT+ fans, young and old, walking through the stadium together. Sometimes it amazed Baze how normalized being- being gay and ou and proud had become over the years of his life. He felt a sense of togetherness with the people in the stadium for the first time after all these years of coming. Beside him, Chirrut looked ecstatic.

Beyond the occasional hand holding and even more occasional waist holding, Baze and Chirrut just weren’t into PDA. They could go entire dinner parties without anyone who didn’t know them guessing they were married, though they normally got some sly glances when they started to snipe at each other.

So most of the people who knew the blind Mariners fan who almost always sat in section 315 didn’t really know that he was coming every single time with his _husband,_ not his best friend, his bro, or whatever.

Tonight, though, with normalized displays of affection all around them - hand holding, and the like - between LGBT+ fans, Baze felt a little more comfortable sliding his arm behind Chirrut’s back as they waited for the game to begin.

While they waited, Chirrut, being Chirrut, made small talk with the couple beside him, young ladies from U-Dub that weren’t necessarily baseball fans but were looking for something fun to do. While Chirrut indoctrinated them into baseball, and specifically Mariners baseball, they settled into each other too, and soon the entire area was listening to Chirrut give a play-by-play of the last game they’d seen so the couple that didn’t know anything could get used to the names.

All in all, it was a wonderful evening out, watching Chirrut entertain the ladies, then shock them with his shouting - fuck, but it was _always_ entertaining to watch Chirrut shock the other attendees at any game. By the end of it, he had the women shouting and standing along with them as they cheered the Mariners into a three-run homer that brought them ahead in the bottom of the eighth.

Exultant, the women next to them kissed each other in celebration, a quick press of lips, which Baze thought nothing of (beyond his normal _eugh, public display of affection_ passing reaction) until Bob, their section watcher, and someone he and Chirrut had made friends with over the years, cleared his throat at their row. “I’m sorry, ladies, but I’ll have to ask you to stop being so affectionate. It’s Safeco policy.”

They looked embarrassed, and admonished at first, until Jackie, the one sitting next to Chirrut, asked, “Would you tell a heterosexual couple to stop?”

Bob blustered through a “Yes, of course,” but was interrupted by Chirrut.

“That’s not right. Linda and Greg kiss all the fucking time, Bob,” Chirrut muttered, pointing incredibly accurately at the couple a few rows below them with season tickets.

The couple in question looked behind them. “What’s going on?”

“What happens if you see them kiss again?” Chirrut asked, brow arching.

By now, Bob was flustered. “I’d ask them to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

Before Baze knew what Chirrut’s plan was, Chirrut had turned into Baze’s arms and grabbed his hair to pull him down for a powerful kiss. “You gonna kick us out, Bob?” Chirrut taunted over his shoulder.

Bob’s face was red and Baze began to imagine steam pumping out of his ears. Before he could speak, though, from a few rows below came a “You gonna kick us out, Bob?” as Linda and Greg kissed where they stood.

Bob coughed and turned away, stomping down the stairs to take up his position.

“Sorry,” Chirrut whispered in his ear before kissing him again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I love you.”

“It’s okay,” Baze murmured against his lips.

“Thank you, Chirrut,” Jackie said sincerely, her arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

Chirrut winked at her then focused back on the game. “Okay, guys, you got this, don’t lose this lead,” he yelled toward the field. He got the section pumped up again, cheering loud for their boys.

Baze stood with him, arm around his waist, and cheered along, shining with pride to be with this man.

The next day, while throwing and listening to the news, his ears perked up as he heard Jackie’s voice talking about their treatment, and the promise from the Mariners that they’d be completing sensitivity training for everyone in their organization. He grinned, proud all over again and exalting in his love for Chirrut.

\-------

**2017**

Chirrut was waiting for him in the spring sun, getting some natural vitamin D after a rough winter - Seattle had gone months, _months_ without a day of sun. “It’s a sign, _lăo gong._ We’re going to get Ichiro bobble heads and sit in the _sun_ and win for once.”

“And cheer your head off for Ichiro, right?”

“Of course.”

They weren’t wearing their couple’s shirts - Chirrut was saving them for Pride Night 2017 - but Baze was wearing the Ken Griffey, Jr. Hall of Fame jersey that Chirrut had bought him last year after he’d lured Baze into becoming a fan of The Kid with Youtube videos. Chirrut was in Ichiro gear, of course, a shirt _Baze_ had bought _him_ all the way back in 2001 commemorating Ichiro winning Rookie of the Year and MVP.

After waiting in line and getting their bobbleheads, Chirrut and Baze walked side by side around the park, visiting all their favorite haunts. Chirrut got _another_ picture with the Dave Niehaus statue, just because he could, and they both posed with the newly unveiled Ken Griffey statue.

Baze bought Chirrut a beer, even though it was a day game - he had the rest of the day off, so why not? They settled in to people watch at Edgar's Cantina, Chirrut making Baze snort water up into his nose at some of his comments.

At one point, Baze approached a family with a young kid and offered his bobblehead up to them. He could have sold it on e-bay, but- meh. With a mental shrug, and a muttered “softy” from Chirrut, he gave it up easily.

As they settled into their seats - still in the nosebleed section, because fuck those prices, Baze watched Chirrut take everything in. Every game, it was the same, like Chirrut was transported back to himself at- what, forty years younger at this point? The baseball field made Chirrut a kid again.

Baze, after seventeen years and over a hundred games, still kind of really didn’t enjoy baseball at all.

But, he reflected as he eased his arm behind Chirrut’s back with a glance at their neighbors, it didn’t really matter how much he didn’t enjoy it, not when he could sit back and enjoy Chirrut instead.

And when Ichiro belted a homerun in what would possibly be his last at-bat at Safeco Field, but the Mariners still won? Well, Baze held Chirrut for that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Ichiro's The Throw: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYAxk01E404  
> Ken Griffey Jr's Career Highlights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPTwvW2kxVs  
> I am such a dork that this Macklemore/Ryan Lewis song about the Mariners always makes me cry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvNQWQSwmow  
> Dave Niehaus's career highlights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-HPHhIJkZQ
> 
> Dave Niehaus, the voice of Mariners baseball.
> 
>  
> 
> Chirrut and Baze's Pride Night shirts would look like this:   
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/c0/be/37/c0be37143712bb8714f825efc53d2cd3.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> I have a story for every day of spiritassassin week for these two!
> 
> I'm @animalasaysrauer on tumblr
> 
> Leave me kudos and comments please, they are my life blood


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